


you raise your eyes to mine

by yawawoo



Series: MX: Half-Cooked Ideas [5]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bars and Cigarettes, Blood and Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 00:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14989175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yawawoo/pseuds/yawawoo
Summary: Hoseok only realizes that another person is sitting on the other stool beside him when a gust of smoke attacks the side of his face. He is already scrunching his eyebrows and starting to line up words to voice out his disapproval when he sees a very attractive, very sharp side profile of the person next to him.





	you raise your eyes to mine

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Minus the Bear - Pony Up!
> 
> Unbeta'd.

 

[ **Hoseok** ]

 

This is probably Hoseok’s third or fourth time going to a club ever since he’s old enough to drink, and he knows he’ll never, _ever_ get used to this.

 

Awkwardly standing in the middle of dancing bodies, Hoseok once again questions his own life choices. Things like going to bars and getting shitfaced on his the night of his birthday are things Hoseok declares to be out of his element. But Hyungwon is his _best friend_ , so when he said Hoseok will go to a bar with him and Jooheon to celebrate, he _goes_.

 

He knows he could have refused and asked to be treated to a good ramen restaurant and eat until he can’t anymore instead, but something about the way Hyungwon had looked at him had Hoseok agreeing (and eventually letting Jooheon dress him up in something other than his gym t-shirts and shorts). That was approximately a little more than half an hour ago, if Hoseok believes in his inner clock, and his companions have long since been swallowed up by rippling, human-shaped tide.

 

So, feeling completely out of place and uncomfortable in his own skin, like his bones are vibrating and seeking justice, it’s normal if Hoseok resolves on busying himself at the bar. It’s fairly crowded, too, but at least the people there are sitting and won’t be surrounding him from every possible direction.

 

There are probably tens of people giving him _very_ suggestive glances—which are as close as literally jumping Hoseok and dragging him somewhere to get horizontal—from men and women alike as Hoseok makes his way to the U-shaped bar.

 

If it isn’t for the knowledge that 98% of the people here are looking for sex, Hoseok wouldn’t know what to make of them, the smirks and head-to-toe eye caresses. So he either panics at those eyes, or freezes up long enough for people to be weirded out by the face he’s unconsciously making.

 

Hoseok drops himself heavily onto an empty stool where the person beside him seem to be conversing with other people. He can at least minimize the probability of getting hit on when he isn’t ready, already thinking of possible effective ways of limb-arrangement that says ‘leave me alone’. He orders a coke, earning a raised eyebrow from the bartender, then puts his elbows on the shiny black counter, slouching to try and look as inconspicuous as possible.

 

Hoseok only realizes that another person is sitting on the other stool beside him when a gust of smoke attacks the side of his face. He is already scrunching his eyebrows and starting to line up words to voice out his disapproval when he sees a very attractive, very sharp side profile of the person next to him.

 

Hoseok manages to close his mouth and swallows back his words, shifting in his seat. The man takes his time to flick the ash from his cigarette before turning and giving Hoseok a full view of his face. And if Hoseok isn’t already leaning his upper body to the bar counter, he would have fallen over.

 

The person—man? Could it be the lights playing a trick on his eyes?—sitting sideways in half a suit (what looks like his jacket is lying on his lap) is one of the prettiest men Hoseok has ever seen. His hair is parted in the middle.  A very sharp nose. Almond shaped eyes lined by long lashes under his wavy bangs. A lower lip set in a natural pout. Though, yes, those eyes do look impassive, nearing dead even, but still, their shape and underlying intensity lights something in Hoseok’s body. His overall complexion is pale, his other hand which isn’t holding a cigarette close to his lips a fair contrast to the black counter top. His hair color is a little hard to make out in the purplish lights of the bar. His skin looks _so smooth_ , and Hoseok finds himself having to struggle not to ogle the skin of his neck, his jugular that peeks from his open collar.

 

The man waits patiently for Hoseok to find his words again and for him to close his still slightly open mouth. Only when his drink comes—he already forgets what he ordered—does Hoseok find a way out of his quite embarrassing trance. “Uh, you… blew smoke to my face,” wow, _brilliant_. Hoseok can feel heat rushing to his face and he instinctively grabs his chilled coke. And gulps it down to half. A dumb move, because his brain freezes and he needs to burp.

 

Glancing nervously back and forth between the coke in his hand and the man beside him, Hoseok sees the way he tilts his head and sucks his cigarette (there’s something really attractive about how his lips pucker to close around the stick). After exhaling another cloud of white smoke (Hoseok thinks that it makes the man look like he has just materialized from another world), his mouth moves. But Hoseok has a hard time hearing him properly. The music certainly plays a part in this, but the thundering of his heartbeat is more prominent. He finds himself swiftly leaning closer, angling his body to him, as if magnetized.

 

“… yes, I did. I apologize. But otherwise I wouldn’t be able to catch your attention in this din,” Hoseok hears him say, even though his brain is making his eyes zero in on his lips and neck. Hoseok wonders if he bruise easily. _Oh, dear God_.

 

“W-Well, you could’ve… I don’t know, poked my arm… or something,” the redhead mutters, straightening self-consciously and forcing his eyes to meet the other man’s, which has an even stronger effect than ogling his lips and neck. Hoseok once again miscalculated his choices in life.

 

The man shrugs, takes his time to down what’s left of his clear drink without breaking eye contact. Hoseok only manages not to creepily watch his Adam’s apple bob. The man puts his glass down slowly. “I don’t think you’ll feel that, considering,” he gestures to Hoseok’s thick figure with a firm flick of hand.

 

 _And you think I’ll appreciate getting a face full of smoke instead?_ But what come out of Hoseok's mouth is a dumb “Okay.”

 

When the man realizes that his unblinking stare is literally draining Hoseok’s ability to speak without embarrassing himself (Hyungwon and Jooheon, _damn_ , where are they when he needs them!?), he elaborates his previous sentence. “Besides, I needed to make sure that you’re… interested.” (And his eyes might have lingered somewhere between Hoseok’s chest and thighs, but who knows.)

 

Hoseok chokes a little on his own spit and residual coke. Holy _shit_ . Alright, technically Hoseok doesn’t know what the man assumes he’s specifically interested in, but Hoseok is at least not _that_ dumb to not know pick-up lines when they're thrown at him in an appropriate setting. He regains his composure after two or three deep breaths. “You’re alone?”

 

A serene flick of the shortening cigarette. “Yes. And you?”

 

“I came with friends,” followed by another big gulp of coke. Hoseok is now really considering ordering some disgusting alcoholic drink to loosen up his twisted tongue and not make a fool of himself in front of attractive people.

 

The man stares at him some more, facial expression giving away nothing. Hoseok finds the gaze unnerving, but he really _can’t_ look away (no matter how cheesy it sounds.) His cigarette is burning slowly between his fore and middle fingers. “Just friends?” he finally asks, tone so flat it’s almost like a statement instead.

 

Hoseok’s blush stays hot and strong on his face, because he's giving him a lidded stare and the way his lashes cast shadows on his high cheeks is a little unfair. “Y-yeah, just friends. My best friends… not that, uh, it’s relevant or anything…” _I’m clearly too sober for this_.

 

“Would they mind if we go somewhere else, then?”

 

Hoseok forces the gears in his head to really work at that. _Would they?_ To be honest Hoseok doubts it. He’s pretty sure that if Hyungwon and Jooheon really wanted to drink and dance and laugh at the disaster that is a shitfaced Lee Hoseok, and then drag his bulk back to his apartment, they wouldn’t have left an inexperienced— _ahem_ , compared to their shenanigans times fifteen—birthday boy to roam a bar this big by himself. _Wait_ . _Wait_ . _Fucking wait_ . “Those _assholes_! This is what their original plan is!”

 

To his credit, the man beside of him doesn’t look offended for getting a freak-out show instead of a proper answer for his question. His eyes might have widened a bit, but then again, it’s probably the lights. “Are you alright?”

 

Hoseok curses his brain-to-mouth filter but mentally pats himself on the back for managing not to announce to the whole world that he needs help getting laid (even though he kind of really does). “Uh, yeah, sorry, I just…” a sharp inhale, “no, they won’t mind. We can go.”

 

Straightening from the slight slump he has, the man gracefully slides down from his perch on the stool (and Hoseok sees a glimpse of how his feet don't touch the ground and he thinks it's hella cute), first stubbing his cigarette to an ashtray Hoseok just realizes is within his reach, before putting his suit jacket back on and reaching down for his briefcase that was hidden in the shadows. Hoseok takes in what little details he can get to identify what kind of person this man is, but gives up on the theories that his brain can come up with in such a short time. If this guy is a serial killer or a member of the mafia or an evil scientist, Hyungwon and Jooheon are the ones to deal with what comes after.

 

Hoseok watches with tense shoulders as the man gestures to their drinks and slides their payment across the counter. A (different?) bartender with a stylish haircut and a nice face accepts it, winking at the slightly shorter man with a grin. “Have a nice night, Kihyun!”

 

“I suppose I will, thank you,” the man— _Kihyun_? Is that his real name?—calmly replies with a small, divine nod that’s a bit out of place in such a wild setting. But that nod fits his suit, a kind of calm nod that businessmen or any kind of people in suits do, or so Hoseok thoughtfully ponders.

 

Hoseok once again finds himself on the receiving end of that intense gaze. “If we  get separated, meeting at the back exit will do, yes?”

 

“Yeah,” Hoseok nods, brain back at warring within itself. _I’m gonna fuck this up_ , he thinks. _He paid for my drink, how do I pay him back?_ He questions himself. _I haven’t told him my name_ , and _God, he’s so pretty_.

 

People Hoseok has associated with in the past all fall into the pretty category. As a lover of art he can't deny that he likes to surround himself with pretty things. But none of them had made Hoseok feel like this, already buzzing with nervous anticipation without anything but serene observations. No unnerving gaze, no quiet demeanor, no real effect on his ability to stay _sane_ . And _certainly_ no catching his attention by blowing smoke to his face. The man is intriguing but at the same time Hoseok is a little scared of his beauty.

 

Sidling close to Hoseok, the man gestures with his eyes for him to lead the way. The bar is situated far enough from the thumping speakers that people can hold a normal conversation without unnecessary volume boost, but to get to the back exit fastest they still have to weave their way through the dance floor. Hoseok hopes he can catch either Hyungwon or Jooheon on his short journey, to do or say… _something_. Just, he needs them to appear in front of him and tell him this is real or something.

 

Bodies bumping into his own from all possible directions give almost an enough proof that Hoseok isn’t asleep somewhere and dreaming of things he never gives much thought about. A little like how he never really think back and try to remember the earlier days of his childhood before Hyungwon and Jooheon, Hoseok realizes that really, this is probably one of the most bizarre things that ever happened in his life. Everything feels new, his brain knows the technicalities but his limbs awkward still. But unlike that stinging somewhere in his chest that accompanies his lonely memories, this newness brings with it a pleasant tension. Almost like how he feels when he’s about to break his records at the gym or have someone listen to a song he composed.

 

Lost in his thought, Hoseok suddenly finds himself already at the other end of the crowd, standing a few steps away from the back door, staring absent-mindedly at the red neon EXIT sign. He blinks and remembers what he’s here for.

 

“Are you changing your mind?” a voice resonates right beside his ear, and Hoseok only manages not to knock his chin to his companion’s temple because his reflexes make him jump back and away. Hoseok hopes no one heard his scream.

 

 _Shit, I forgot that I’m… taking him… back somewhere._ “N-no, I’m not! Don’t scare me like that!”

 

The man falls back from his tiptoe, the lifting of his height must have been meant to reach Hoseok’s ear and fucking _breathe down_ on it. It’s hard to tell if he’s really smirking in amusement at Hoseok’s frustrated scowl or not because the light is decidedly dimmer where they’re standing. “I am glad, then.”

 

Hoseok continues to stare at the man’s back as he turns to the door. The bodyguard standing beside the simple one-way door doesn’t show any sign of acknowledgement to them, and Hoseok fleetingly wonders if the sunglasses is really necessary in a place with an already low intensity of light. But then Hoseok's companion holds the door open for him, waiting for Hoseok to step out after him.

 

A gust of cold, spring wind sharply slaps Hoseok on the face, and the redhead can feel some of the tension melt away a little. Late night Seoul is decidedly a little less noisy than the inside of the club. He cracks his neck a little bit and shakes his arms and upper body, ridding himself completely from the unseen weight that settled on his bones. Clubs are so _stuffy_. Then his eyes land on the man in front of him, who is currently staring at Hoseok with another unreadable expression.

 

“Why were you in there if clubs make you uncomfortable?” that soft voice asks, and Hoseok stuffs his hands into his pockets. Maybe to distract the limbs from doing something else. Like maybe pushing the man to the alley wall behind them and kissing his lips.

 

“Victim to rowdy, demanding friends,” Hoseok says, actually thinking about telling him Hyungwon and Jooheon’s plan, or that today is his birthday, but that’s what his mouth settles for. “So… uh, your place or mine?”

 

“Yours, if you don’t mind,” the man says, polite. “Ah, forgive my rudeness. My name is Kihyun. Pleased to meet you.”

 

It takes a while for Hoseok to realize that the man is introducing himself. To a one-night stand. Politely. With a little bow of his head. _Please take care of me?_ “H-Hoseok,” says the redhead, nodding awkwardly back. “Wait, is that even your real name?”

 

Kihyun regards him with his seemingly perpetual blank look. “Yes, it is. Is there a problem, Hoseok-ssi?”

 

Hoseok looks away from those scrutinizing eyes, stopping his mind from trying to be creative and make him wonder if that calm façade will break once he’s under Hoseok and writhing. “No,” he then jerks his chin to the direction of the alley exit. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Hoseok wakes to an empty bed, the tangled sheet around his legs making uncomfortable lumps that dig into his skin. The sill of his bay window, however, is occupied by a man with hair in total disarray, who also seems to be smoking. Hoseok remembers how and when he made those bruises mottling the man’s pale shoulders before actually remembering his name, and how he’s hand strands of silvery-brown hair between his fingers. _Kihyun_ , the man’s voice floats in his head. _My name is Kihyun. Pleased to meet you._

 

“Aren’t you cold?” Hoseok blurts, but really, no one can’t blame him for wanting to fill the strange silence of dawn. It might be a trick of the light again (the early sunlight that can’t decide to be pink or orange), but to Hoseok, the slopes of those shoulders are just too… _lonely_.

 

And Kihyun doesn’t even flinch hearing Hoseok’s rough morning voice slicing the air, and stretches very, very slowly, sticking his arm out of the open window and flicking the ashes of his cigarette, making a small rain of burning remains. “I’m fine, Hoseok-ssi,” he says as he closes the window.

 

Hoseok doesn’t know how to respond to that, isn’t quite _awake_ yet, nor sure about the realness of all of this, so he untangles himself from the clutches of his sheets, pulls on a hoodie and grabs the fallen pillows on his way to the bathroom to empty his bladder. When he gets out after he’s cleaned up the worst remainder of last night’s activity, Kihyun is still sitting there, still bare-chested, still staring away at something—maybe _someone_ , Hoseok isn’t sure—but is no longer smoking. Hoseok wonders if he’s thrown it out of the window, but he doesn’t have the heart to ask.

 

It’s strange, and sad, for some reason, and Hoseok doesn’t know why. But he gets a feeling that the man currently hugging his knees and curling up on his sill just needs somewhere to _be_ , and Hoseok doesn’t mind a company on his birthday, really. He’s never woken up this early on his birthday before, the sun persistently, unfailingly breaking the dark sky, and Kihyun is a welcome sight, like a long-lost element to perfect his boring windowsill. _And curse you, Brain, don’t get excited just because someone’s here this year._

 

“Do you want breakfast?” Hoseok asks as he pulls on a fresh pair of pants quickly before Kihyun turns to look at him.

 

Kihyun does this head-tilting thing before saying, “Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”

 

Then Hoseok wants to smack himself because he's broke and asks “Is ramen okay… for you?” That gets Hoseok two nods, so he shuffles to his kitchen and prays that cooking will help him get rid of the strange dark aura surrounding his… _guest_.

 

Unfortunately, waiting for the water to boil isn’t distracting enough, but he hears the bathroom door close, so he can relax knowing that Kihyun hasn’t jumped out of his window. Hoseok doesn’t _want_ him to, but he sort of knows the appeal of being five floors away from the ground when the world decides to sit on your shoulders.

 

It comes as a shock when there are arms slinking around his stomach and a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, and Hoseok would have dropped the eggs into the sink if they weren’t already in the pot with the noodles by the time Kihyun clings to him. “O-Oi! Don’t do that!”

 

Kihyun says nothing at first, a fleeting smile in his eyes when Hoseok turns to face him with a flustered frown. But then he leans up and kisses Hoseok, chastely, the corner of his lips. “Can we pretend like we’ve known each other for a long, long time?”

 

Something in Hoseok’s head clicks when he hears that, and dark, dark eyes are just _so_ mystifying that he finds himself nodding, even though he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to. Something just tells him to go along, to _take care of this man in front of you, Hoseok._ It tells him that this is something important.

 

Up close, Kihyun actually has wrinkles. Not much, but they are there nonetheless, and they speak of age and the carvings of whatever is weighing him down and putting storm clouds in his eyes. Those wrinkles multiples, adorably, when he actually smiles, albeit somewhat still very vaguely, and he leans up to kiss Hoseok again, this time a smooch that’s intimate in another time, perhaps when everything doesn’t fail to make sense and Hoseok isn’t feeling dumb yet unable to stop. “The ramen is going to turn soggy,” Kihyun says before separating from him.

 

They go and sit on the sill; the books Hoseok keeps there are moved to the floor and cushions are put behind their backs, their feet crisscrossing with a steaming pot of ramen and a bowl of kimchi situated between them. Hoseok picks a piece of the fermented dish, and Kihyun doesn’t resist when Hoseok brings it up to his mouth. By the time the sun casts light on half of Kihyun’s head, the pot is empty except for the egg whites that cling to its bottom and then they’re back to the strange, early morning silence that’s broken by the bells of the newspaperman and barking dogs.

 

After tracking a jogger run up the side road under them, Kihyun turns to Hoseok, his eyes intense and the fire in them is back, pinning Hoseok on his spot. And just like that, the spell is broken, and Kihyun gets up to dress and find his belongings, a slight wince in his steps. Something tugs at Hoseok’s heart when the man’s neck is covered by the stiff fabric of his shirt’s collar, but the redhead says nothing, once again rid of his speech just from _watching_.

 

Fully dressed (Hoseok just realized his hair has sorted itself out [did it?]) and looking not much different than last night, Kihyun approaches him, looking at him with an unreadable expression. They just look at each other for a while—Hoseok tense and unmoving, Kihyun contemplative. Then Kihyun leans in and kisses him on the lips, a small peck that Hoseok thinks is a short one, but then a small hand is in his hair and it becomes tongue and teeth and desperate hands.

 

When they break away Kihyun becomes rumpled again, but not too much, just looking like another overworked businessman in Seoul if one does not pay attention to purple spots peeking from underneath his collar.

 

“Happy birthday, Hoseok,” Kihyun says before turning and leaving silently by the door, leaving Hoseok to watch him go and disappear down the road from the window, unmoving.


End file.
